Reading a fellow blogger’s account of a similar situation…

It struck me forcibly what the source of my current anxiety is. 

On one level I’m going about my life, calmer now, less visibly upset, enjoying the company of friends, colleagues and family. On the other, under my breath when I’m left to my own devices I’m saying” I fucking hate you for what you’ve done to me. I hope you are fucking miserable for every day of the rest of your miserable fucking life”. Yet I know if I were to see him again I would feel all those old feelings of desperate love in 5 minutes flat. 

I cannot imagine how they can be happy. His accounts of his marriage were wildly different from day to day “it’s not that bad”. Or “it’s been bad for a couple of years” or “if you’d found me 5 years ago I would have left like a shot – it was terrible. ”

But as the universe keeps kindly putting examples in front of me, I now know that people put up with all sorts of crappy, shitty relationships rather than upset the house, their finances,  their family, their friends, the seeing of their children every day. 

It feels incomplete because I can’t imagine they will make this work for long. Because we didn’t have one of “those” conversations before the catastrophic end. Yet nothing can complete it. I need to declare it complete and I can’t. 

That leaves me anxiously wondering when and where I will bump into him and how I will cope with it when I do. I’d cover my head as I know he loved my red hair and would hate the blonde. It’s one of the reasons I’m uncomfortable with my new hair colour even though many of my friends say they like it. 

My brain accepts it all – that it’s over, that it couldn’t work anyway, that he’s treated me like shit, that I deserve a whole lot more. My heart is still holding on. I’m ashamed to say that. It’s stupid in the extreme, but hoping without hope is making me grind my teeth at night and mutter under my breath. It’s exhausting.


2 thoughts on “Hope without hope

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